How the Other Half Lives
by darknessnl
Summary: A tragic event results in Hermione turning to the Dark. PreHBP. DMHG. DracoHermione.
1. Under the Impression

**Chapter 1 – Under the Impression**

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_We are terribly sorry to inform you that at 11:19 pm on Saturday, August 14th your parents Jane Elizabeth Granger and Michael Stuart Granger were found dead in their home in Muggle London. Aurors found large traces of dark magic present. Seeing as both victims were probed for information before their deaths, we have reason to believe that their lives were lost at the hand of the Dark Lord. Therefore, no further investigation shall be conducted._

_You can collect the Grangers' personal effects at the Ministry from August 20th through August 30th. If you are unable to do so, they shall be sent to you by owl at a later date._

_We are terribly sorry for your loss._

_Our Regards,_

_Tobias Minkins_

Hermione laughed as she placed the near-torn page back in its original envelope. She'd read it so many times that it was quite close to turning to ashes before her very eyes. And each time she read it, it seemed to mock her a little bit more. i _'Your parents, Jane Elizabeth and Michael Stuart'_ they'd used her parents middle names, as if trying to prove that they knew them well enough to make their 'regards' real._'Probed for information'_, that meant tortured, she wasn't stupid. _'you can collect…through August 30th'_it sounded as if she'd one some kind of contest. _'Our Regards, Tobias Minkins'_.

"No, _my_ regards, _Tobias Minkins_, anyone with a name like that must be one miserable fool."

She replaced the letter into her bag and stepped out of the carriage and looked up at Hogwarts. Seeing all the other students happy and catching up, she reached instinctively for the envelopes in her bag: one being the notice of her parents' death, the other being her letter from Dumbledore informing her that she'd been chosen as Head Girl. She convinced herself that the comfort she'd been seeking (in reaching for the envelopes) was in hers from Hogwarts, but inside…she doubted it.

It had only been two weeks, after all. She'd carried that letter around everywhere. In her mind, it was like a piece of her parents, the only thing she had left. She was still hurting, probably always would.

She looked up again at the great oak doors but found no comfort there. And her hands reached for the letters again.

_She'd been away when it happened; indulging herself with a weekend with her best mates at the Burrow. They'd had a spectacular weekend. As she was packing on Sunday in order to return home in a few hours, she received an owl, one that was quite official looking. She had the fleeting impression that it was her letter from Hogwarts, come early, because it was obvious that she was Head Girl._

_But the seal on the letter didn't look like that of Hogwarts. Opening the letter, we know what she found. With a cry of agony, she crumpled to the floor of Ginny's room._

_That's where the twins found her, but by then she was all dried up, and no tears were to be seen. She was sitting there: nose red, eyes puffy, staring blankly at the wall. She wouldn't say a word, not even when prompted by Harry and Ron._

_They finally found the letter on the floor some five feet away. They each read it and feigning sad faces passed it to the next person. Ron was last. He looked up with solemn eyes when finished, "Oh, Hermione. I'm s-"_

_But the look in her eyes, it was pleading for him not to finish. That look broke his heart and he couldn't continue. He just hugged her, Harry joined them._

_Some time later an owl flew in and dropped her Hogwarts letter onto the pillow._

_And in the first sound she'd made since she'd received the original letter, she _laughed _at the cruel irony._

* * *

Harry and Ron found her rather quickly in the crowd, for she was the only one getting out of a carriage by herself. She barely noticed how they looked at the ground when they talked to her, how they tried to make her parents death not all that bad. She heard Harry mention that they could be there for each other, because his parents were gone too. 

They each took one of her hands and led her to the steps and into the Great Hall, decorated splendidly for the commencement of the year. Her mind wandered during the Sorting Hat's song, and even still during the sorting. While other Gryffindors stood and cheered as first years were sorted into the house Hermione remained seated, completely motionless.

"And as a last announcement, this year's Head Boy and Girl are Draco Malfoy," boos erupted all around her, she made no sound, she'd expected him to be selected, "and Hermione Granger." She faked a smile as the other end of the hall exploded in boos, it was the Slytherins naturally.

"Congratulations, Hermione!"

"Yeah. Nice job."

"We always knew you could do it."

"Well, of course she could. She's bloody brilliant."

"That's enough, Ronald." She finally spoke up. He looked at the table again, "Sorry." He mumbled.

She had to be honest; she'd never expected that announcement to go that way. She'd expected to see herself with a big smile, spurting "thank you"s and receiving hugs. But right now, she didn't care. She just wanted to go to bed.

She ate very little during the feast and only spoke when directly addressed by Harry, Ron or Ginny.

"So, Hermione, will you work with me in Potions again this year?" She heard it, but barely. She assumed it was Neville, she didn't respond and eventually he dropped the subject.

She heard Ron say to him, "Don't worry, mate. She's just had a rough summer is all. I'm sure she'd be glad to help you. Right, Hermione?"

"Mmm."

"See, I told you."

From what Hermione understood she was to retrieve Malfoy and visit Dumbledore's office in order to receive information about this year and their responsibilities. She was dreading this most of all; hopefully he wouldn't say anything about her parents in front of the git. Then again, Malfoy probably knew all about her parents' death, his father was part of ol' Voldie's inner circle. She continuously checked the time, doing the math to figure out exactly how many seconds of solitude she had left before she'd have to see the king of the dolts.

Before long the hall started to clear out as prefects took the younger students back to their houses. To her great surprise Malfoy found her first.

"Ready to go, Mudblood?"

There was no witty comeback to his 'greeting' which surprised him a bit. But he let it be as they moved toward the main staircase outside the Great Hall.

She kept reminding herself that the only reason she was here this year was because she was Head Girl.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Let me know what you think. Review please. 


	2. Truth

**Chapter 2 – Truth**

After the initial 'greeting' the walk to Dumbledore's office was quite somber. Draco, apparently, was trying to think of something witty to say in order to get her to reply. He couldn't.

He noted the way she grasped her small black and white checkered tote, and how her hand reached inside it every so often, but never did she pull something out of it.

As they approached the spiral staircase, Hermione began to comprehend her surroundings. She was back at Hogwarts, where she used to feel at home, and now she just felt hopelessly lost. She saw Malfoy looking at her curiously as she reached for her bag for the envelopes, they were her only physical comfort and she'd be damned if his curiosity would stop her from feeling just a bit better. She shot him a death glare which practically stopped him cold. If he was going to study her she was going to make a hard time of it. She noted, however, that the closer they got to Dumbledore's office the more his hand gravitated towards his forearm. Then it clicked…he's a Death Eater. Apparently, Snape had failed at getting Malfoy to support the light. After all, she hadn't been to the last six Order meetings, but surely she would've heard if he'd joined the Order.

At last they reached the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office. It jumped aside upon seeing them, apparently they were expected. She went up the staircase first, careful not to let Malfoy look up her school skirt.

"Come in, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy." Dumbledore announced from his chair. When they sat, Dumbledore noticed with some amusement that Hermione's hands gravitated towards her bag, Draco's to his arm. It seemed to Hermione, as Dumbledore told them of their duties, that the old man wouldn't look her directly in the eye. 'Maybe he pities me, just like everyone else.' He finished his speech rather quickly, Hermione not listening to half of it.

"Mr. Malfoy…"

"Yes?"

"Would you be so kind as to step outside for a moment? I'd like to have a word with Miss Granger."

"Certainly." He replied, relieved to be out of the office, but curious as to what subject matter he wasn't allowed to hear.

"Mind that you don't wander off, Draco, I have to show you to your dormitory."

"Alright."

Malfoy, still rubbing his arm, got up and left, closing the door behind him. The headmaster cast a silencing spell, and Hermione looked surprised. "It's about your parents, and I'm sure you don't want Mr. Malfoy overhearing, there's no doubt that he's trying."

Hermione feigned a smile and a small laugh for good measure.

"I know you're still hurting, Hermione; but carrying around that letter isn't going to do you any good."

"Yes, well…"

Dumbledore nodded. He understood.

"Miss Granger, I think you deserve to know the truth. The circumstances surrounding your parents' deaths were less than normal." He took a deep breath, "You missed a great deal during the meetings for the Order. I know that you were busy studying for this year and then…your parents…"

She nodded, warding off tears.

"Miss Granger, the Order of the Phoenix hoped to lure Voldemort out of hiding in hopes of Harry catching him off guard. We'd known for a long time that he wanted to get hold of your parents. He wanted to hurt your parents in order to hurt you, which would, in turn, hurt Harry. You know that, of course. So they were placed under a concealment charm, which you should remember."

"Of course, sir. That's why it made no sense that he found them."

"Let me finish, Miss Granger. Then you can voice your questions. As a matter of fact _silencio_ . The Order found a way to lure the Dark Lord out of hiding. And that was to allow him to find your parents. We removed the charm on a Thursday night, making it look like an error so he wouldn't get suspicious. By Friday afternoon those who'd been looking for your parents (Death Eaters, Hermione) pick up their trail and informed the Dark Lord. Severus kept an ear out for when they were to pay your parents a visit. It was announced that it was to be Sunday night. But Tom, in the first display of his character that I've seen since he left Hogwarts, changed the plan to a night earlier, suspecting a traitor among his ranks. He called upon three of his best Death Eaters just a quarter of an hour before the attack and revealed the change of plans. Those three were the only ones who knew. Severus was left out of the loop, and there was thing we could've done, Hermione. I'm sorry."

By now she was fighting to speak, "_Finite Incantatum_ ."

"You-you…you used my parents as the proverbial carrot in front of the mule! Is that what you're telling me! No, you know what? Don't answer that. How dare you! 'Oh let's play a game of life chess using Hermione's parents as pawns.' No, nothing could go wrong like that!"

"Hermione, please relax."

"Relax? Oh, bloody hell I'll relax, old man! My parents are dead because you were too bloody worried about-"

"Miss Granger!"

"What!"

"I realize you're upset-"

"Upset! If this is upset then you're in for a rude awakening when 'pissed' rolls around."

"You'll have to calm down sooner or later, unless of course you want Mr. Malfoy finding out. Because once he knows, Miss Parkinson knows which means the entire student body will know by breakfast, lunch if you're lucky."

She shut up, but the fire in her eyes refused to extinguish.

"You must realize Miss Grangr that the intention was not to allow your parents to be killed, but no I'm afraid they're just casualties of the war."

"Did they know?" she asked quietly.

"Pardon me?"

"Did they know? Did Harry and Ron know?"

"They had to, Miss Granger. For it was their job to keep you busy for the weekend."

Her eyes hardened but Dumbledore didn't notice. He was on his way to the door.

"Shall we?" she rose, but said nothing as she and Dumbledore met Malfoy outside the door. His face screamed 'well-it-took-you-long-enough' but he said nothing.

They walked in a strange silence, Hermione in a state of shock, Draco trying to avoid getting asked any questions by Dumbledore.

They reached the Heads Tower rather quickly. Muttering the password (_vita vicissitudo_) to the tired looking man in the frame. The door swung open to reveal a room decorated largely in rich earth colors. Dumbledore quickly explained that their rooms were not connected in any way. They had separate bathrooms and bedrooms, yet shared a common room. And they would still attend the Great Hall for meals. He let himself out sometime later, and Hermione, being emotionally exhausted decided to explore the rooms tomorrow.

"Look Granger, there's a bookshelf. Maybe you should start now."

No reply.

"Aww, what's wrong, Granger? The-boy-who-won't-die is ill? Or is I've-got-more-freckles-than-galleons-boy getting expelled because of his poor appearance? Oh, I know, the old git finally told you I'm smarter than you."

She turned around to look at him, quite calmly believe it or not. She discreetly pulled her wand out of her pocket and pointing it at him mumbled, "_Windgardium Leviosa_." Malfoy flew up towards the ceiling with a look of panic. She spoke calmly, "Now while you're up there, you git, take a listen. I'm not in the mood for your snide remarks, someone's got that covered nor do I need another all-the-girls-love-me-guy, because that title is once again taken by someone. Harry being ill or Ron being expelled 'shant affect me in the least, if it were to happen. And that old git said nothing about your intelligence, or lack thereof. Now unless you'd like to sleep up there I'd suggest you shut the bloody hell up, because one of these days Malfoy you're going to wake up with pink hair and lipstick."

"Let me down, Granger! This instant."

"Certainly._ Finite Incantatum._ " Malfoy fell from the air and landed on the floor with a thud.

"Hope your arm doesn't hurt too bad, Malfoy. I know how terribly you'd hate to see Madam Pomfrey about it." She said, pointing to her left forearm, "That'd certainly be a stupid way to get caught, no?"

With that, she left for her room. Shutting and locking the door behind her. She'd be damned if _she_ was going to wake up with pink hair.

'_So she knows._ ' Malfoy thought, '_Damn it._'

* * *

**Author's Note:** Please note that this story is **pre-HBP** (post OOTP). I have indeed read the story, in fact I read it the first day it came out. But **this story was started about a month prior to the release of HBP** and therefore I had 5 and 1/2 chapters written before the release of the sixth book (for those of you wondering why I didn't post it as I wrote it I have a simple answer: I was merely testing the reactions at another site and having liked what I got there, I've added it here). Therefore **this story contains no intentional spoilers.**

**Thanks to my reviewers. And for those of you haven't reviewed, please do, I appreciate it.**

**A minor correction has been made in the chapter as of 5/14/06, correcting the placement of Draco's Dark Mark. Special thanks to thedustbunny for pointing out my error. :)**


	3. Fire Is Unforgiving

**Chapter 3 – Fire Is Unforgiving **

Hermione didn't feel like sleeping, despite the fact that it was close to midnight. The train ride had exhausted her and when she'd been at dinner all she could think of was sleep, but now, she wanted nothing more than to stay awake, to scream, yell, break things. Do _something._ She thought that tonight sleep would be even worse then on an average night; tonight she was sure to dream of her parents.

Her trunk had been in her room when she'd first entered after revealing to Malfoy that she knew his little secret, she'd put everything away quite calmly, without the flow of tears, without feeling lost and betrayed. But now, there was nothing to keep her busy, and her anger took over.

Grabbing the picture of Harry, Ron and herself off her bedside table she threw it towards the door. The frame took most of the impact but she heard the glass shatter; it was a satisfactory feeling. She found more framed photos of herself and her friends, even pictures of other Order members, including Sirius, Dumbledore, Kingsley and Tonks; she'd had at least twenty. Each one of them found its way toward the door where it shattered. When she ran out she repaired each of the pictures and piled them on her bed. She was crying by now; she was even angrier by now. She now found herself using various spells to break the photos, but the feeling of satisfaction was gone. Her room was destroyed: lamps were broken, everything was strewn across the floor, but she didn't care. She repaired them again, and removed the picture from each frame. She then proceeded to banish the frames and tear up each photo. Then, with a large handful of shredded pictures she entered the common area she shared with the blonde git and walked to the fire and house elf had so kindly made for her. She proceeded to throw the shredded pieces into the fire.

Draco entered just in time to see Potter's face burning, along with several of the Weasleys, Dumbledore and some woman with pink hair. Draco looked at Granger quizzically, he'd _never_ expected that. She hadn't seen him, and he wasn't in the mood for another flying experience tonight, so he retreated to his room once more. He prayed that he wouldn't be awoken again by the sounds of breaking glass and long strings of profanities that he didn't know Granger ever knew.

He thought about what the hell could've made the Mudblood so pissed at Potter and all his blind followers. He couldn't think of one thing. But once he figured it out, he promised himself that he'd milk it for all it was worth.

As he lay down he heard Granger sobbing, so he cast himself a silencing spell and willed himself to sleep.

* * *

Hermione woke up late the next morning, due to her antics the night before. She'd even found herself a bottle of Firewhiskey, it was probably Malfoy's but at this point she didn't care. She'd fallen asleep after drinking half of it, and woke up with a headache to prove it. She dressed as quickly as she could with her headache and performed a charm which helped her with clarity, she'd looked it up thinking Harry and Ron would probably need it one of these days, well now she knew she wouldn't be using it on them.

As she made her way down to breakfast her only thought was that Malfoy hadn't seen anything last night, she'd been stupid to go out into their common room, quite stupid. But she was sure he hadn't seen anything, hopefully their rooms were far enough apart that he hadn't heard the glass breaking.

As she entered the Great Hall she saw several people look up, and within moments they began whispering to their friends, who looked up in turn. It was probably because of her appearance. Her eyes were still red from crying, she was sure of that. Her hair wasn't its usual straight, and for all she knew she was walking in zigzags. Harry and Ron looked shamefaced, they couldn't meet her eyes and made no attempt to talk to her; apparently Dumbledore had told them that he'd told her, he'd probably said that she needed time alone too. Stupid old git. She noticed Dean Thomas sitting in her usual place; apparently they'd assumed that she wasn't going to appear at breakfast. Dean being there didn't bother her at all. In fact, it gave her a reason not to sit with Harry and Ron, the Dim Duo as she had taken to calling them last night. Honestly, they'd both be dead without her. And they knew it.

She took a seat towards the end of the table next to some quiet third years. She felt someone's eyes on her and she looked up to see Dumbledore watching her intently from the staff table, she just shook her head and looked back towards her muffin, which she'd taken a single bite of.

She left breakfast five minutes earlier than most of the other students; she didn't have a class for another hour anyhow; that was the perks of being an older student: getting to choose when you'd like to have a class. She did nothing for the next hour but sit in the common room and throw things in the fire that Harry and Ron had given her: a charm bracelet, earrings, candles; the only thing she didn't burn were the books they'd given her, she just ripped out the pages where they'd written their "Dear Hermione"s.

Her first class was muggle studies, a mixed class with only one other Gryffindor, and that was Neville. Surely she could talk to him, but that's when she remembered that he'd joined the Order just a few weeks after Ginny Weasley, Dumbledore had apparently seen the progress he'd been making in Dumbledore's Army. She sat in the back, much to the shock of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws in the class. Why on Earth would a Gryffindor sit so close to a primarily Slytherin section?

The boy next to her was indeed in Slytherin, but she said not a word to him all period. She recognized him, apparently he was a good friend of Malfoy's, probably his _only_ smart friend. He definitely wasn't a Crabbe or a Goyle. She didn't listen to what the professor was saying, it was only that "Welcome back, I hope you had a good summer. This year we'll be doing this and that," mumbo jumbo. It bored her, she didn't care. She continuously drew pictures of Harry, Ron and her; she'd then label them with odd names and rip herself out of the picture, much to the annoyance of the Ravenclaw in front of her. By the end of class she'd drawn a picture of all the Order members that she'd met using one of their distinct features of identify them, Harry's was his scar, Ron's was food, Dumbledore's was his beard, Tonks' had her hair, Kingsley had his lack of hair. Each of the Weasleys had something as well. Lastly she drew herself, standing away from the bunch, various speech bubbles came from her mouth that had specific spells in them. As the professor was wrapping up his lesson she drew herself a thought bubble, the words _Avada Kedavra_ written haphazardly inside.

The boy sitting next to her, Blaise Zabini, found this quite interesting as he watched her scribble the words. He'd have to tell Draco about this, but maybe he wouldn't just yet.


	4. Loss of the Gryffindor Golden Girl

**Chapter 4 – Loss of the Gryffindor Golden Girl**

The next three days came and went without all that much notice for Hermione. Dumbledore had visited the common room she shared with Draco yesterday, and when he entered he'd banished Draco to his rooms. He'd then spoken to Hermione, conveying that he hoped that the discovery of this information wasn't going to affect her school work. She screamed, "How could it not!" and ran into her room. The next morning, she i didn't /i go to breakfast.

She'd spent most of that day in the library looking at various books in the restricted section, she had the permission, of course, she'd just asked Dumbledore, and he felt bad enough to let her. She found herself drawn to the books associated with the Dark Arts, and amused herself by looking up various hexes and curses that she could use in her drawings of Harry and Ron.

Hermione returned to the library early the next day and stayed through breakfast. As usual though, she couldn't just busy herself by looking for the words in italics (that's how they wrote the curses), she needed to know the origin, the purpose, the creator and virtually everything about it, then she'd have the satisfaction of using it. After a while she gravitated towards the Unforgivables, she found a large volume titled _The Unforgivables: A History of the Most Immoral Curses In Wizarding History_ , it was, apparently, one of Wilbert Slinkhard's less known books. Just as she was pulling it off the shelf she found that she was due in the muggle studies classroom, a far distance from the library, in ten minutes. She put the book aside, hoping no one would see it, and intent on coming back later to read it. She never noticed the Slytherin boy from her muggle studies class walk by and pick it up.

Blaise watched her calmly, intent on finding out what the hell she was doing in the restricted section, and when he discovered it, he was surprised, and thoroughly pleased. He grabbed the book and checked it out at the desk without so much as a second glance from Madam Pince; she knew he was too far gone to save with just a few words anyway. He stuffed the book away in his bag and headed to his first class, oh today would be joyous.

By the time he'd reached the classroom Granger was only a few steps ahead of him, and they took their seats simultaneously, both of them thinking about the book. The lesson was boring, something the both of them knew. Hermione went back to drawing pictures, pictures that were even crueler than the last time. She took note of the boy next to her staring at her intently, as if he wanted to say something but didn't know how.

She shot him a glare; he was a Slytherin after all. He just smiled. Hermione turned away pretending to be annoyed, but she paid close attention as he reached into his bag and pulled out the very book she'd been viewing in the library minutes before.

She jumped up, ready to exclaim that he'd been spying on her, and that that was an invasion of her privacy.

She never did get any words out, and her classmates looked at her like she was crazy. The professor, of course, was now addressing her, "Do you need something, Miss Granger?"

"No, Prof- actually, yes. I'm not feeling all that well, could I, perhaps, go back to my rooms? I'll make up the lesson another time."

"Mmm. Certainly, Miss Granger. It's not necessary for you to make up the class, Miss Granger, you_are_ Muggle-born. Go on back to your rooms; you look quite distressed, would you like someone to escort you?"

Before Hermione could respond that she would be fine on her own, the Slytherin boy jumped in, "I'll take her, Professor. I've learned this already, and I'm sure no one else could afford to miss this lesson."

Hermione looked practically horror struck, but kept her opinion to herself by not allowing her facial expression to change. She couldn't believe this prick, she didn't even know his name and apparently he was following her, spying on her and now he was walking her to her rooms. What kind of conspiracy was this?

She feigned a smile for the sake of her professor as the Slytherin grabbed her bag and proceeded to leave the classroom. The door closed with a click behind them and the boy looked around. Seeing no one he grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her into the nearest empty classroom.

"We should talk." Blaise said to her.

"Yes, certainly. That'll be nice. First off, why the hell can't we talk in my common room? We could get caught here or-"

"We won't get caught, Hermione. And I'm not taking chances; Draco is off this period, more than likely he'll be throwing darts at pictures of…you…in his room or something. He can't know."

"He can't know what, exactly? And darts are a muggle game, you twit."

"I'll get to that. And Draco's more muggle than you think."

She was puzzled. Malfoy, Muggles? It doesn't fit. She'd just have to wait apparently. But right now she had another question.

"Well, fine. Secondly, what the bloody hell is your name!"

He extended his hand, "Blaise Zabini, Slytherin seventh year. Friend of Draco Malfoy. Son of a Death Eater. Student extraordinaire." He smirked, it was uncannily similar to that of Malfoy and it gave her the willies.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Oh, but I'm not, Hermione."

"Alright, Zabini, then what the bloody hell are you stalking me for?"

"Stalking. Hmm. I don't consider it stalking, but whatever floats your boat, Hermione."

She looked at him quizzically. "You're a Slytherin…"

"Very good."

"You called me, Hermione…"

"I see they made you Head Girl because of your remarkable intelligence."

She shot him a glare, but continued, "Slytherins don't call me Hermione."

"Well, this one does."

"You're confusing me."

"Yes, I noticed that, but I don't see how this could be confusing you. Honestly, all I dragged you in here for was to find out why you've been drawing those pictures. They _are_ nice pictures, mind you, but I'm still curious as to why Gryffindor's Golden Girl wants to_Avada_ her whole house, and very many of the teachers I might add."

"They've been being mean, that's all. It's nothing but a petty spat between friends."

"See, now there's where I don't believe you, Hermione," he said her name with flair, and she prayed to Merlin that he'd stop; it was scaring her, "You see, Malfoy is always a git to you. Yet I've never seen his face in one of your drawings."

Hermione huffed, she'd been quite careless with her drawings, but she couldn't take it back now. And she was certain she still hated the duo.

She shot him a glare, "Well maybe if you weren't such a slimy Slytherin git who can't mind his own bloody business you wouldn't have so many questions!"

"I know you hate Scarhead and his lap dog, Pauper, as well as all their loyal followers, the only thing I don't know is why. Care to tell me? I thought not. In the mean time, here's your book, I took it out for you, and I daresay it's quite good."

She looked dumbfounded.

Blaise couldn't help but think _'This'll be slow-goings, apparently. Although I can't say I didn't expect it.'_

"I'll be in touch, Hermione. Be a dear, and don't mention this to Draco, you know us Slytherins, we don't stop until we find out what we want." He shook his head, "And I don't think I'd be all that far off in saying that Dumbledore and Potter have lost their Golden Girl."


	5. A Proposition & Hilarity

**Chapter 5 – A Proposition & Hilarity**

Hermione walked back to her dormitory strangely calm. She didn't like Blaise, but had a feeling that he wouldn't say anything. That boy was quite, for lack of a better word, creepy. She swore he could read her mind. She knew she should hate him, that she should hex him with everything she had left, but for some reason she couldn't bring herself to do it. She, strangely enough, had respect for the boy. She wanted to hate him; after all, he associated with the people who killed her parents, but then again _she'd_ associated with the people who'd killed her parents as well, it really didn't matter that they weren't the same people.

Hermione now had a free half hour, as did Blaise, and she planned to use it to her advantage. Heading back towards her common room she entered, planning on heading back up to her room to read the book Blaise had so kindly borrowed for her. She'd just set her bag by the door when she was addressed. She jumped, she wasn't expecting anyone to be here, there were classes going on, after all. She turned and faced the direction of the couch only to see Malfoy smirking lazily.

"Hello, Mudblood." Hermione frowned, "What are you doing here? Don't you have some Muggle worshipping class, or something as absurd?"

"It's called Muggle _Studies_, Malfoy. And you'd do good to learn something about Muggles, you know that?"

"Whatever, Granger. I still don't know why you're here. Do share…"

"I wasn't feeling all that well, not as though it matters to you. And if you're trying to get me into trouble for not being in classes it's not going to work. I happen to know that you have Charms right about now, no?"

Malfoy shrugged it off, "I learned all that rubbish years ago, Granger."

"Oh, I see. And that's why you found yourself floating in midair on the first day we got here, right? Yes, I thought so."

Malfoy's grin faded, "What was that all about anyway? Did the Mudblood have a fight with Potty and Weasel on the train?"

Hermione just smiled, "I'm telling you, Malfoy. One of these days…pink hair…" she told him, laughing.

He muttered something that was incomprehensible, "Pardon me, Malfoy?"

"And lips- Never mind, Granger."

She laughed, harder. It was probably closer to a cackle now, "Too late." She began walking out, book in her arms, "I won't forget the lipstick, Malfoy, I promise."

"Stupid Mudblood." He screamed at her retreating back, "Stupid, ugly Mudblood!"

She just shook her head as she closed her door, petty insults weren't really her game.

* * *

She came out some fifteen minutes later to get something out of her bag, which she'd left by the door. Malfoy was lying back on the couch, staring at the ceiling and attempting to charm the figurine on the mantelpiece to dance, as of right now, he only had blinking eyes.

"Looks like you _could've_ used that Charms class, eh?"

"Shut up, Mudblood."

She began to walk back to her room when he spoke, "How did you know?"

"What?"

"How did you know…about my arm…?"

"I have two things to teach you, the first being that if you want to hide that thing you don't constantly touch yourforearm in front of the Headmaster, that's just stupid." Malfoy looked almost like a scorned child. "Secondly, how could you be sure that _I_ was sure about you have a mark, I could've been bluffing for all you know. And by asking me that question you've revealed your large, important, albeit poorly-kept, secret."

He stared at her in disbelief.

"No matter what you like to think, you're quite a transparent person."

* * *

Hermione barely made it through the next class, and couldn't wait to be back in her dormitory where she could read _The Unforgivables_. She decided it best to skip lunch; she'd been doing that a lot lately just to avoid the awkward seating arrangements in the Great Hall.

She entered the common room for the umpteenth time that day and seeing that Malfoy wasn't anywhere in the immediate vicinity, she took a seat on the sofa. She'd been absorbed in her book for barely five minutes when there was a knock on the door. She huffed as she stuffed the book under a pillow, careful to mark her page. Walking to the portrait hole she cursed people like her who skipped lunch. She opened the door only to find Blaise Zabini, leaning casually against the pillar next to the door, a grin plastered on his face. "Miss Granger. What a pleasure, running into you."

He kissed her hand, and she shook him off, disgusted, "You came here, you twit."

"Yes, well, I suppose I did, didn't I? Very well, then, I suppose we should get right down to it."

"Down to what, exactly?"

He voice raised several decibels in an attempt to embarrass her, "That lovely book you're reading, that you've managed to stuff under pillow over there. I believe it was called _The Unfor_-"

"Shut it, you git. Come in here."

He smiled triumphantly and stepped inside the common room. She moved to sit on the couch, but was stopped, "And what if Draco were to come in and find us conversing? Surely he'd throw one of his notorious tantrums about associating with Muggle-borns."

Hermione huffed; this Blaise was too much trouble.

She muttered the password to her rooms and he followed her in. "So I've noticed you and the other two-thirds of the Golden Trio have had a falling out." He said as he sat in a chair in the corner.

"Yes, well, they've betrayed my trust."

"And, how, Miss-Goody-Goody-Gryffindor, did they do that?"

She shot him a look for the name, he smiled, and said "I meant it merely as a term of endearment."

"Surely." She replied bitterly.

"Care to share, my dear?"

"Not really."

"Oh, but it'll be fun."

"I think not."

"I think you should try it, Hermione."

She looked at him, she was sure he used her name to throw her off balance, this situation only reinforced it. But Hermione couldn't help but tell him, something about him made her trust him. It probably wasn't the wisest decision she'd ever made, or maybe it was.

"My parents are dead."

She saw what she thought was true and honest sympathy in his eyes, and continued, "The Order, they…" she paused, "…they _let _him do it."

"Let who do what?"

She began talking rapidly, "The Order, several months ago, put my parents under protection because the Dark Lord was looking for them. Apparently he hoped that if he killed my parents it would hurt me, and hurt Potter in turn. Well, the Order recently decided that the only way to lure the Dark Lord out of hiding was to reveal the location of my parents; they removed the spell and planned to have Potter ambush him at their house. Well, the Order got word that the Dark Lord would be attacking on Sunday; the Dark Lord got smart and changed his plan to a day earlier, and…" she paused, taking a breath, the first which Blaise had seen her take since she began, "and now they're dead."

Throughout her tale Blaise couldn't help but noticed the way she referred to each person, she no longer called Harry by his first name (a fact that thrilled Blaise). And, quite interestingly, she called Voldie 'the Dark Lord', which was something only his followers called him. Maybe his work would be quicker than he expected.

Hermione was now staring at him with cold eyes, she'd shut down on him, "Now you know what you want to know, okay? So you can stop following me."

"Hermione…" she pointed toward the door. Blaise didn't move though, "I only came by here to say that if you're really interested in that stuff," he gestured to the book she'd retrieved from under the pillow on the sofa, "that I could help you learn some more. Then you could use those spells you like to draw so much…"

She looked at him with wide eyes; the proposition was quite a provoking one. She sat silently for a moment before logic took over, "Blaise, people would get suspicious if we started hanging around together. We'd need a reason, and we don't have one. So, I guess," she looked slightly regretful, "we can't."

He nodded his head. "Alright. If you change your mind…"

"I won't." She replied, but he had a feeling she would.

Blaise got up to leave, saying he'd talk to her another time, perhaps during Muggle Studies, but not Arithmancy, because 'Draco is there, you know'.

He couldn't help but thinking that she had quite a point, although he wasn't going to give up just yet. He looked out the door checking for Draco, and not seeing anything, he made a point of being quiet as he moved across the common room to the door.

Draco Malfoy, standing in the shadows near his bedroom door, allowed himself a laugh as he saw a fellow Slytherin sneak out of the Head Girl's room and out the common room door. Granger came out several seconds later and grabbed her bag, on the way to her next class. '_So Granger does put out. Now that's interesting._' he smirked as he gathered his things.

* * *

At dinner Hermione sat towards the end of the table like she had been in recent days, she noticed Harry and Ron continuously looking at her and after shooting them a glare she turned her attention elsewhere. Malfoy was looking at her amusedly from across the hall, so pushing away her dinner, she rose and exited the hall.

Blaise Zabini laughed to himself as he watched Potty and Weasel get up and practically run out of the Great Hall after her.

Harry and Ron caught up with her in small corridor just as dinner let out, "Hermione, Hermione!"

She froze, anger coursing through her. "What?"

"Can we talk?" Harry asked sheepishly.

"That's what we're doing, is it not?"

"Well, yes, but….Hermione, we're sorry." Ron told her.

"It's a little late for sorry. In fact, there was no time for sorry. You know why? Because they're dead! And you allow it to happen! I cannot believe you! You were supposed to be my _best friends_. I wish you'd never said sorry way back in first year, I wish you'd never saved me from that bloody troll, because then I wouldn't be in this mess at all. I hate you, both of you! I hate all of your little friends and fan clubs, too. Go to hell!"

"Why do you have to be difficult, Hermione?"

"I'm being difficult? Harry, think of it this way, Peter Pettigrew betrayed your parents by telling their location, correct?" Harry nodded, "And you hate him, correct?" Another nod, "And what exactly makes that different from what you did to me?"

"Pettigrew's reasons were selfish. Ours was for _the cause_." He said the last two words like they were magic, like he hoped they'd fixed everything, _Her parents death was for the cause_. Yes, that made it better.

"Your reasons weren't at all selfish! Wasn't this whole thing concocted to make it easier on you, Harry? And wasn't Pettigrew intent on helping _his_ cause? Yes and yes!" She took a breath, "Why don't you come back to me when you have a valid argument? Until then Harry can go back to screwing _your sister_" she pointed at Ron, "and you can go back to screwing…well, no one, so you can go fuck your broom, alright? Now move the bloody hell out of my way before you become the next bouncing ferret."

She pushed through them, and in her angry rage, never noticed Blaise Zabini watching for halfway down the corridor, having heard every word and laughing hysterically.

She made her way into the common room, slamming the door behind her. Malfoy, who was laying on the couch reading jumped a good six inches as a result. Hermione, noticing this as she stormed passed called out, "Twitchy little ferret aren't you!"


	6. Basking In Confusion

**Chapter 6 – Basking In Confusion**

Hermione arose the next morning feeling less-than-stellar. She dressed more slowly than usual, evidently she was trying to put something off, but it appeared that Hermione herself had no idea what is was.

She sat on her bed for a good twenty minutes debating whether or not to make an appearance at breakfast. Surely all the Gryffindors will have heard about her fight with Harry and Ron, and she wasn't quite in the mood for hostile glares and death threats. But she knew that if she didn't show up that they'd know why, and that'd just give them all the more reason to mock her. She was unable to choose so she withdrew a galleon from her pocket and threw it in the air, heads she'd go to breakfast, tails she'd stay in her dormitory. It landed on heads. "Damn it."

She picked up the galleon and made her way into the common room. Hermione pushed her way through the portrait hole and made toward the Great Hall, most of the students were on their way their now.

She had expected whispers and snide comments to follow her as she walked through the corridors, and she was not disappointed. The boys leered while the girls glared and Hermione couldn't help but want to scream. But she didn't.

She kept walking and she finally made her way to the staircase which would bring her down to the Entrance Hall, and eventually into the Great Hall. As she reached the foot of the stairs she found that a great number of students were still standing outside the Great Hall, postponing their entry. Hermione found this bizarre, as most students were inside the Great Hall eating their breakfasts there were some who were loitering outside, as if waiting for something. She was about to tell each of them to shove off when her thoughts were interrupted.

"Whore!"

Hermione turned to seek out who yelled the obscene word and found herself looking at a fifth year Ravenclaw girl. The girl just glared at her.

Hermione immediately figured that this was a product of Parvati and Lavender's gossip engrossment. Apparently they'd spread the news of her fight with Harry and Ron around school.

"Whore!" the girl screamed again. Hermione was about to tell her that she should head up to the library and find out the meaning of the word, because surely there were more appropriate ones for this situation.

But Hermione never got the chance. Other students started repeating the remarks of the girl and she found that even Slytherins were included in the mix.

Now she really hated Harry and Ron, no doubt they'd gone back to their common room looking upset and all the other Gryffindors had asked what happened, and they'd shared, except, Hermione thought, they'd embellished a little.

Yes, this had to be about what happened with Harry and Ron.

"The Head Girl is a whore!" someone screamed, and Hermione felt like dying. They could at least be accurate. "Hermione Granger gets around!"

Now her head was spinning. She looked at their faces and was even more confused. She must've looked quite stupid as they all continued to shout their insults at a rapid pace. Hermione was Blaise come out of the Great Hall and as he worked his way through the gathering crowd he shouted, "Sod off, you gits!" He pushed a person aside, "Bloody hell, people! How hard is that to comprehend? Leave her alone!"

He reached her as the crowd dispersed, many of them going into the Great Hall for breakfast. Hermione was still feeling quite confused.

As he pulled up beside her he put his arm around her waist, he smirked in a very Malfoy-like manner, "Hello, love." Then he kissed her.

It was only then that she realized that in all likelihood this incident had _nothing_ to do with Harry and Ron.

hr

Draco Malfoy couldn't help but laugh to himself as he overheard the commotion in the Entrance Hall.

After seeing Blaise sneak out of Hermione's room he'd considered whether or not he should tell anyone about it, at first he'd decided against it, for his best friend's sake. But after Granger had made her "twitchy ferret" comment he'd changed his mind. Before breakfast that morning he'd let it slip to Pansy that he'd seen Blaise coming out of Hermione's room.

And, of course, in true female fashion, the news had reached the ears of more than half the student body by breakfast.

Draco had hoped that Blaise would be able to handle the fallout from the potentially damaging information he'd leaked, but his doubts were erased the moment Blaise had approached the large group of people in the Entrance Hall. But what came next almost gave him a coronary, Blaise had kissed the Mudblood. Now certainly Draco could deduce that they did this in private, but it never really clicked for him.

He watched as Zabini led the confused looking Mudblood away. ' _Heh. She's probably wondering why the bloody hell everyone knows about her nightly escapades._ '

He smiled and entered the Great Hall, he had his mind on a croissant, apparently scheming made him hungry.

* * *

Hermione was trying to get her head straight. None of this was making any sense, and if anyone had the brain power to make sense out of it, it'd be her. She found herself being led down a dark corridor by Blaise, and she seemed to have no idea why she was following him, but she did. 

She soon found herself in the Slytherin Common Room. Descriptions that Harry and Ron had given floated back to her all the way from second year, but she banished the thoughts as quickly as they'd come, for they addressed topics, or people rather, that she didn't wish to think about again.

Blaise led her up a staircase, surprisingly without much protest from the Gryffindor princess. It was only then that she noticed they were in his dormitory, for she'd been batting away thoughts of Harry and Ron.

"I'm finding this situation highly inappropriate, Zabini."

He smiled, which made her uneasy, "That may be so, but I believe that if you give the people reason to believe exactly what it is they want to believe, they tend to be less hostile."

She gave him a pointed stare, "That's hardly true." She frowned, "What the bloody hell is going on?"

The quirky smiled reappeared on his face and she found herself wanting to slap it off, but, thinking that unwise, she just took a step back. He spoke, "You know, Draco can be a good bloke sometimes; and when he is, I'm glad he's my mate."

She looked at him trivially, "I'm sorry, Zabini, I don't speak psycho, you'll have to translate."

"Now, now, Hermione. Insulting the one who possesses the information you seek is not the way to gain said information."

She glared and bit back a response similar to "Yes, mother."

He sighed; apparently he'd have to tell her, damn her stubbornness. "This morning I saw Pansy telling one of the Patil twins - don't know which one, I don't pay attention to blood-traitors," at this Hermione glared once more, "plus I could never tell them apart, anyhow – anyway, Pansy told her that I'd been in your rooms last night. And," he waved his hands dramatically, "let the rumor-spreading commence."

"You're joking."

"Oh yes, this is all just a big giant joke which I configured to embarrass you." He rolled his eyes, "I even paid that girl to insult you."

Hermione smacked him across the back of the head with her palm for his sarcasm.

"Fine, fine. It's not a joke."

"So basically you kissed me in order to feed the ever-growing rumor-fire?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose. It was fun to see your face, I must admit."

She dearly wanted to hex him now, but as she ran through the library that is her brain for an appropriate (and oh so painful) hex, she heard Blaise speak again, "Now I'm guessing that Pansy got her information from Draco – actually, I'm sure she did. So he saw me come out of your rooms and saw this as opportunity to ruin you."

"I bet he was retaliating."

"For what, exactly?"

"Well, I came into the common room and slammed the portrait as I did so – I was in a bad mood – and Malfoy jumped clear off the couch." She broke into a grin, "I called him a twitchy little ferret."

"Well, that explains it."

Blaise walked to his trunk and searched through some things inside, coming up empty-handed.

"Well, Hermione, Malfoy just solved our previous dilemma."

"And what was that?"

"Twitchy ferret, he may be, but I now have a reason to spend time with you."

"I'm failing to see why I would want to spend time with you, Zabini."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Ugh, guys I'm sorry. This chapter was written so much better the first time around but my sister, being the brain that she is decided to do some spontaneous computer cleaning, which left me with nothing. That's right, I had THE WHOLE CHAPTER written and part of the next and now it's all gone and this version of the chapter is horrible, in my opinion. It flowed and worked out better the first time. 

Yes, I realize that was a bizarre place to end it, but it seems if i went any further it'd get out of control. Not to mention this chapter was long enough for me already, with all the stress. Heh.

Please review, maybe I'll stop being annoyed.


	7. Implications

**Last time:**

"Twitchy ferret, he may be, but I now have a reason to spend time with you."

"I'm failing to see why I would want to spend time with you, Zabini."

* * *

"What did I tell you about insulting those who possess the information you desire?"

"Zabini, if you don't tell me what in hell you're talking about, so help me Merlin, I'll hex you senseless. Because, unfortunately for you I'm just fed up, and considering that you're the only one in this room…" By then she had her wand out, and Blaise didn't want her to continue.

"Okay, okay, Hermione. Temper, temper."

She glared at him and he took a step back, one which she matched in moving forward.

"Well since Draco, the good guy that he is, has spread this_creative_rumor we might as well use it to our advantage."

Hermione just stared at him, "_Creative_? Is that some kind of underhanded insult?"

"Only if you want it to be, Hermione. I only meant that_ I_ would…you know…but…ahem…you, probably wouldn't."

"Ah yes. The 'do you know where that's been' factor. Of course."

"Clever." He grinned.

"I know."

"Now back to what I was saying before you got all insecure, Hermione."

She moved to object (she wasn't insecure), but he never let her. "Since everyone thinks we're…well, you know…we can use the time that they think we're using for…you know…to study."

"I never figured you for a shy one, Zabini." She smiled, "And I don't need a study buddy."

"Oh, on the contrary... You see, Hermione, you don't understand a particular book-" she raised her eyebrows, _her_ not understand a book? That was absurd.

"-A book which I understand quite well…" he paused, hoping to see some kind of recognition in her eyes, "-you know, the book I took out of the library for you."

"Oh…_The Unf-_ …oh." She paused, "That's brilliant. That's absolutely brilliant."

"Of course it is."

She gave him a pointed look, but he just smiled back. Unbeknownst to either of the two the door to dormitory had opened, although the visitor had yet to announce themselves.

She frowned then, apparently thinking of something. "But, I don't know, Zabini. This might not be a good idea…"

"We should try, at least. If you don't like it, we'll stop, Hermione." He smiled at her while she considered the option.

"Alright." She said, although she gave him a questioning look.

"Oh honestly!" Blaise and Hermione turned toward the source of the exclamation and found Goyle standing in the doorway. Hermione supposed he was coming to collect his things for class.

"You know, Zabini" he said, "if you're going to do i that /i in i here /i then please, post up a sign or something. I'm going to have to ask Draco to _obliviate_ that conversation from my memory. If you want to discuss your sexual escap-…escapa-…esc-..._games_ do it somewhere else, for Merlin's sake!"

Hermione looked practically mortified at this remark; Goyle had thought that they'd been talking about…oh Merlin! Blaise, however, looked rather amused that Goyle couldn't seem to pronounce 'escapades' and that he'd chosen such a moment to walk in on.

It was then that Crabbe stuck his head through the door, apparently hearing enough of the commotion to comprehend what was going on. Or what Goyle _thought_ was going on.

Blaise just grinned and turned to Hermione. "I'll see you later then." He told her, and then proceeded to shower her with unnecessary displays of affection, for the sake of Crabbe and Goyle.

She made her way through the door, although the two heavyweights didn't make it easy. Crabbe called behind her, "Better be careful, Granger. A goody-goody Gryffindor all alone in the Slytherin Common Room, who knows, she might get frightened and take an unfortunate fall down a flight of stairs."

After that remark, Blaise was quick to follow her and escort her into primarily neutral territory in the corridors. He was sure to leave her in view of plenty of Gryffindors. Although he wasn't too sure how they'd take to her now that their 'extra-curricular activities' had been exposed.

* * *

Hermione found her way to the Potions room in a daze. She'd seen some first years pointing at her and whispering. One very brave third year Slytherin dared approach her, but by the time the girl had finished making her snide remark she had grown fins, a nose much like the Muggle idea of a witch and ears which weighed her head down so much that her friends had to assist her.

She took her seat in the first row of the Potions room, just as she had for the past six years. The first potions class they'd had she'd arrived before Harry and Ron in order to ensure herself their customary table. Today, however the Dim Duo had reclaimed the table.

Without a second thought Hermione walked the aisle down the center of the dungeon to the two boys. When she reached the table she placed her books down and stared pointedly at them, tapping her foot.

"So you've decided to sit with us, then?" Harry asked, almost hopeful.

Hermione scoffed, "Hardly."

"Then what is it, Hermione?" Ron asked.

"You're sitting in my seat, you twit."

"Bloody hell, I am, woman!" Ron said, standing.

Hermione had already begun _Windgardium Leviosa_-ing their books to the table behind her when Professor Snape found his way to the doorway of the dungeon.

"Why do you have to be so difficult all the time?" Ron asked, looking to Harry for support, but the raven-haired boy stayed silent.

Hermione proceeded to ignore Ron's remarks until he started to use unnecessary 'adjectives'.

"And honestly, Hermione" he went on, "I never liked when you got called a Mudblood, and Mum hates the word, but you know if you're i this /i obnoxious around him then maybe you deserved it."

Malfoy, in true fashion, looked up upon hearing his name and called out across the dungeons at this, "Hey Weasley, I don't need you to suck up now that the dark is winning the war, we're going to kill you no matter what. In fact, we might _Avada_ you _before_ the Mudblood, just so we can watch her cry."

Hermione proceeded to scoff at this remark and collective gasps were heard across the room. Hermione could've sworn she heard someone whisper, "She wouldn't be upset? So it's true then…"

Severus Snape felt that this may be the best time to intercede. He walked quickly to the front of the dungeon and upon reaching it, turned smartly on his heel and addressed the Gryffindorks.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Weasley?"

"No, sir."

"Then you wouldn't know anything about a voice - which sounds quite similar to yours - shout the derogatory term for a Muggleborn, several moments ago?"

Ron looked shamefaced. "Sorry, sir."

"Of course, you are. You're always sorry, Weasley. Or rather, you always say you're sorry, but do you ever mean it?" Snape asked, rather wickedly, giving a pointed look to Hermione.

Ron looked confused. Snape, not giving him any time to answer, if he was intent on answering at all, smiled cruelly. "Detention, Mr. Weasley."

"But, sir..."

"Silence, Mr. Weasley, or I'll add another for every word you say."

Ron fell silent, much to the Slytherins' disappointment, as well as Hermione's. Snape adjusted something on his desk and allowed himself a grin, or something resembling one.

"Now, Miss Granger, there seems to be the problem of you needing a partner. I assume that both Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley are out of the question. And it appears as though every other Gryffindor has a partner, how unfortunate. Although I do see that Mr. Malfoy has two partners, both Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle."

Hermione frowned at the idea of working with Crabbe or Goyle, especially with the incidences of the previous hour.

"That's a no then? Well, I suppose there's always Mr. Malfoy, himself."

**Author's Note:** I am incredibly sorry for the delay of this. I've just been oh-so-busy.

Yes, I realize that the last time I updated was in July, but my family went on vacation and my chapters were deleted from my computer. Then school started and I take AP classes which are swamping me, plus sports. But the other day I logged on and read all of your wonderful reviews and felt like giving you something to read. Plus I've been feeling inspired writing-wise. Even my original fiction is moving along. Although I haven't written a one-shot for anything (mostly other TV shows) since the end of September.

As for Crabbe and Goyle, I never saw them walking around saying "duh" all the time, they had to pick up something from Malfoy, and they are Slytherins. They're not _completely_ dim. So that's my portrayal of them.

The "creative" comment and the conversation ensuing is my attempt at humor. Some of you will get it. Others maybe not. Basically Hermione remarks about how Blaise used the words 'creative rumor', she asks him if he meant that he'd never even consider doing what it is Draco thinks they're doing. Blaise then says that he would do _that_ (he's joking) but Hermione wouldn't (he's calling her a prude). Hermione then goes on to say that she wouldn't only because Blaise has slept with lots of people. I hope you can follow the rest…

**I know that this is a disappointingly short chapter, but I wanted to leave it there. Plus, I'm saving some good stuff for the next chapter…which I've already started! Yay**


	8. Of Mudbloods & Ferrets

**Chapter 8 - Of Mudbloods & Ferrets**

_Please note, that after the break line in the story it goes into flashbacks. The first bit is what is going on now, while the italicized bits are flashbacks. By the end of the chapter we're back to the exact same spot in now. Like a circle. Hope its not too confusing_.

* * *

Hermione looked horrified at the proposition of having to work with Malfoy, but it went unnoticed by Snape, as the door to the dungeon opened once more. 

In stepped Blaise Zabini, in all his Slytherin glory. "Professor Snape, I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, sir, but I've gotten switched into this class."

"That's quite alright, Mr. Zabini. Although, I'd like to inquire as to why you've been placed here."

"Well, you see, sir, I don't quite get on with some students in my Divination class and Professor Trelawney has_foreseen_ that it will cause a major dispute if I don't change my class. Personally, I think she just hit the Firewhiskey a bit too hard last night or-"

"That'll be enough, Mr. Zabini."

"Right, Professor."

"Miss Granger," Snape said, turning to her, "it appears as though you won't have work with Mr. Malfoy after all."

Hermione could've sworn that Snape looked a bit crestfallen at this, though Malfoy practically sang his praises. "Miss Granger, take a seat with Mr. Zabini at that last table, over there," Snape said, pointing to the back of the room, "this way Potter and Weasley don't start crying."

Hermione almost smiled at this remark, but didn't quite feel like receiving hateful looks from anymore Gryffindors. She moved to the back of the classroom and took her seat next to Blaise.

As Snape began his lesson, with slightly less zeal, Hermione settled in next to Blaise.

Within ten minutes Blaise found himself incredibly bored, so he found a spare piece of parchment in his bag and scribbled a note.

_Bloody hell, this is boring. Did you bring the book? I could teach you something…_

He slid it over to Hermione, who looked at him, and scribbled back.

_I'm not stupid, if I ever got caught with that book…oh Merlin, what would people think_, she slid it back.

_Since when do you care what people think, Hermione? I mean you're dating me, you've ditched your friends and you hate everything that's breathing_.

He passed it back to Hermione, who gave an exasperated sigh before writing back.

_First off, Zabini, I'm not dating you. And, secondly, I don't hate_everything_that's breathing_.She shoved the parchment back at him.

_Someone's in denial…_

At this point Hermione kicked him under the table. Blaise seized the parchment from her hands and wrote,_So do you care about what people think?_

He passed it back.

_Blaise, we're supposed to be learning Potions_…

He rolled his eyes.

_We could've passed this course in our first year. And stop avoiding the question_.

This time Hermione rolled her eyes. She poised her quill to write back, but found that all the other students were exiting the dungeon.

She stuffed the parchment into her bag and made her way into the corridor, intent on getting to Transfiguration before the Dim Duo.

* * *

Hermione sat in the common room sometime after dinner, reading a book. Not _The Unforgivables_ , of course since Draco had almost caught her reading it earlier…

_Draco Malfoy, on his way back to the Heads' Common Room after dinner, was in a relatively good mood. Millicent had kept her hands off him long enough for him to be able to eat most of his dinner with retching. Nonetheless, he'd made his departure from the Great Hall early, intent on getting ready and beating the rest of the Slytherin team to the Quidditch pitch before practice._

_He smirked at the thought of having them dodge Bludgers as punishment for being late._

_Hermione had skipped dinner, hoping to have more of an opportunity to read_ The Unforgivables_ . She'd spent most of dinner reading in the common room. She checked the clock only to find that she needn't expect Malfoy back for at least a quarter of an hour._

_Less than three minutes later, however, she was incredibly shocked to find the portrait opening._

_She quickly shoved the book behind a pillow, but not before Malfoy could see her motion._

_He'd tried to get a peek at the title, but his efforts were hindered by her rapid movement._

_He smirked at her, shutting the portrait and striding towards his room._

_"I never pegged you as the type to read smutty romance novels. Is Zabini not enough for you, Granger?"_

_Hermione shrugged it off, "Actually, I borrowed this from your girlfriend." She smiled, "It's well-worn."_

_Malfoy stopped in his tracks, and knowing full well that she hadn't actually borrowed it, he turned to face her. He then proceeded to smirk at her again._

_She spoke first, however, "What? Are you not enough for her?" she asked in an amused and slightly mocking tone. She'd one-upped him_

_Malfoy rolled his eyes and turned on his heel, walking towards his room. He called over his shoulder, "Glad to see that your wit is improving, Mudblood."_

_She called back, "I see yours hasn't, Ferret."_

* * *

Once Malfoy had shut his door, Hermione had snuck off into her room and placed the book in her bureau. She'd have to be more careful next time. 

She returned to the common room only to find Malfoy's door standing open, she watched him fight with his Quidditch robes, which were, apparently much like a maze. She revealed her presence when she laughed as Malfoy tried to navigate his arm into his sleeve for the sixth time….

_"Mudblood."_

_"Ferret."_

_He sneered at her and then resumed his quest to conquer the perils of wizarding wardrobes._

_"Is that why you made Zabini your co-captain? I mean, if you can't even dress yourself – which my four year old_Muggle_ cousin can do – then how do you propose you run a Quidditch team?"_

_"Shut_up_ , Mudblood."_

_"Oh, how very clever, Malfoy. Eloquent, too."_

_At last he managed to thrust his arm through the hole. Grabbing his broom he pushed past Hermione and moved towards the portrait hole._

_"Don't you have better things to do, Granger? Like…" he shuddered, "screw Zabini? Or curse Potty and Weasel King? Or cry over your worthless Muggle parents?"_

_Without giving her a chance to speak he strode over to the portrait hole, threw it open, stepped out and slammed it behind him._

_Staring after him Hermione couldn't help but want to scream._

_And she did scream. A lot._

_After calming down a bit she moved to the window. She watched as a blonde figured strode towards the Quidditch pitch and thought occurred to her._

_With a few words and some quick wand work Hermione managed to give herself a few laughs._

_She watched in hysterics as the other six members of the Slytherin Quidditch team, Blaise included, made their way down to the Quidditch pitch._

* * *

So now she sat in the common room, reading a book that wasn't_The Unforgivables_ and awaiting Draco Malfoy's return. She had no doubt that his return would be quite soon; that is, of course, if the Slytherin Quidditch team felt it was beneficial to tell him what he _looked_ like.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Believe it or not, I've already finished chapter 9 and I'm already working on chapter 10. Chp 9 should be up sometime next week, and ten by the week after that. I may update more during the winter holidays...we'll see how it goes.

I've created a "How the Other Half Lives" forum using the new features. The link is in my profile, at the bottom. Click HTOHL Forum. There's a preview of Chapter 9 there.

I'd love to hear what all of you think, so please visit the forum. I'm open to suggestions and I love to hear your theories.


	9. What Was Promised

**Chapter 9: What Was Promised**

It was another half an hour before Hermione saw any sign of Malfoy at all.

He was flying on his broom above the Quidditch pitch, identifiable only by his hair. Hermione laughed to herself, amused that Malfoy's teammates hadn't told him anything about his bizarre appearance. She assumed that Blaise had had a hand in it, somehow; perhaps suggesting to the rest of the team that they not tell Malfoy, and they allow him to reenter the castle as he currently appeared.

Hermione burst into a fit of hysterics once more as she saw Malfoy flying over the pitch looking utterly ridiculous. She rose from her place on the window bench in the common room and moved toward a door, opening it with a giggle.

A half an hour later Hermione was back in the common room she shared with the Slytherin Prick. She heard loud, aggravated yells from the corridor and with a smile she settled back into sofa and closed her eyes.

Less than thirty seconds later the portrait flew open, Hermione delayed her reaction a moment and then sat up in mock surprise.

She swung her legs off the couch and moved to face Malfoy. She really had to admire her handiwork, as Malfoy slammed the door and stood at the entrance to the common room, completely enraged. His hair was an almost fluorescent pink and his lips had an excessive amount of pink lipstick on them. Perhaps the best or maybe second best part of his entire appearance was the ridiculous butterfly barrette she'd charmed into his hair as a last thought.

The best part of his appearance, however, was his face: he was _livid. _

Hermione thought that this just made him look more ridiculous, not at all frightening.

He glared at her for a few moments; by now Hermione was laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

"You…look…ridiculous."

"Not – another – word, Mudblood. I _know _you did this."

Since Malfoy had forbid that she speak she just arose and took a sweeping bow and took her seat again. Hermione stifled another laugh and asked, "They let you fly around like that? Some friends you must have, Malfoy."

"When the war comes, Granger, I'll make sure you're at the wrong end of _my_ wand."

Hermione just shrugged.

"Fix it!"

Hermione stared at him.

"Granger! Fix my bloody hair." He pulled out his wand, pointing it at her.

"Oh yes, _Avada_ me now. Then you'll have to get daddy dearest to fix your hair. Now how degrading would that be?"

He moved to wipe the lipstick from his mouth but only succeeded it making it a more hideous shade of pink.

She _smirked_ at him.

"Bloody hell! What, do you want me to apologize? Look what you _did_ to me, Mudblood. _You_ should be apologizing to _me_! You've been spending too much time with that Loony Lovegood character, Granger, you're off your rocker. Do you honestly expect _me_ to apologize to _you_?"

She nodded.

"You've gone batty."

She looked down her nose at him.

He huffed, "No way. Not even to Merlin himself."

Instead of responding Hermione rose from the couch and made toward her room.

"Okay, okay! Merlin!" He shouted in an attempt to cease her departure. He began in a quick and quiet tone, "I'm sorry I called Potter and Weasley names."

Hermione shook her head.

"I'm sorry I spoke ill of your parents?"

She shrugged.

"I'm sorry I called you a Mudblood?"

She nodded, "Very good. Now repeat after me, 'Hermione Granger is smarter than me.'"

"Granger is smart."

"No, Ferret."

"This is stupid, Mudblood."

She gave him a pointed look.

"I'm sorry, Granger." He said sulkily.

She looked disappointed, "I suppose that will have to do. Although I expect you to recite it for me tomorrow morning."

"Oh, bloody hell!" She stared expectantly at him, "Alright, alright. Now will you fix _this_?" He pointed to his hair.

She rolled her eyes and raised her wand, "_Finite Incantatem_." She lowered her wand as Malfoy moved to speak again.

He advanced on her, "Don't you ever do that to me again, Mud-"

Within a second her wand was waving menacingly in his face.

"What was that, Ferret?"

"Listen you Mudblood bit-"

"_Windgardium Leviosa_."

Malfoy rocketed towards the ceiling where he remained suspended, looking irritably down at Hermione.

"I'm glad you like to fly, Malfoy," She said, whipping her wand to the left and watching Malfoy move subsequently, crashing into the wall, "because it appears that at the rate you're going that you'll be doing quite a lot of flying – on the Quidditch pitch and off."

"Let me down." He demanded.

"The last time you demanded that you injured your arm – do you really want to do that again?"

"No." He replied quickly,"Damn it, Granger!"

She waved in mock sweetness and gave him a big smile.

Malfoy sighed exasperatedly and muttered, "Hermione Granger is smarter than me."

Hermione gave a quick nod, "Thank you."

And within half a second Draco Malfoy found himself falling through the air. By the time he hit the floor the door to Hermione's room had shut.

It took Malfoy a moment to recover and when he finally did he cursed Granger for his unexpected flight – and fall. He pushed himself up off the common room floor and dusted himself off. "I cannot _believe_ I said that. Granger? Smarter than me? Ha-ha."

It took him a moment to realize that he was still dressed in his Quidditch robes. Seeing this he moved quickly to his room.

Upon opening the door he blanched at the sight before him. _Everything_ in his room was the same grotesque pink color that is hair had been.

And on the wall opposite the door, spelled out in grossly large purple letters were the words "_Fickle Ferret, you have no merit. You got what you deserved_."

He was about to scream when his room began to hum, and then play a particularly annoying tune, accompanied by a predominantly child-like voice singing the very words that were on his wall.

"GRAAAAANGER!"

The next morning at breakfast Blaise Zabini took his customary seat at the Slytherin table. Sitting across from Malfoy he watched him as he unconsciously hummed a strange tune.

Blaise laughed and Draco looked up, "So you're blonde again, then?"

Draco practically stared daggers.

"Right, sorry mate. I just thought that you looked particularly good with pink hair, not as pale and corpse-like as you do now. Although please warn me the next time you care to experiment with color palettes, I might've been able to choose a more flattering color."

Draco was back to staring at him plate; he stabbed at his eggs angrily.

Later that afternoon Hermione was in the library researching an essay for Herbology. She'd been sitting at a back table in an attempt to avoid any unwanted glances from younger Gryffindors, but apparently she couldn't avoid the company of Blaise Zabini, because he found her quite easily.

"Hello, love." He said and then he kissed her for the sake of…well, no one.

She gave him a look, but greeted him all the same.

"Nice show last night." He said.

"Pardon?" She asked innocently.

"Oh, come _on_! Malfoy's hair?" She looked at him quizzically, but he knew that she knew what he was talking about. "I particularly liked the butterfly barrette, it was a nice touch."

She grinned, "I thought so, myself, actually."

They both laughed as the image of Malfoy came back to them.

"You couldn't have picked a more flattering color?"

She laughed and asked, "So how'd you know it was me?"

"It was quite simple to deduce. You see, one, you're the only other person in Hogwarts – aside from me, of course – capable of it. And two, you're the only other person audacious enough to do it."

"Yes well, I couldn't resist: laughs at Malfoy's expense really are the best kind."

He kissed her hand as he rose, "I couldn't agree more, my dear."

She laughed at him and swatted his hand away.

And in turn, he laughed as he turned to walk away, but called out over his shoulder just before he escaped her line of vision, "You _really_ should've been in Slytherin, love."

Hermione smiled as she went back to her books.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Indeed many of your guesses were correct. But I added a little twist that I hope you enjoyed. Hope you liked it, I plan on getting another chapter up over this break. 

Please visit the new How the Other Half Lives forum, provided by new feature. The link is at the top and bottom of my profile. Click either "My Forums" at the top or "HTOHL Forum" at the bottom.

Happy Holidays,  
Nicole


	10. Innocence Forsaken

**Chapter 10 - Innocence Forsaken**

Over the course of the next week Draco Malfoy repeatedly attempted to get even with Hermione Granger.

He'd tried to cover her face in warts, only to have his hex blocked (and reflected). He'd stumbled back to his dormitory and waited four hours for the warts to disappear.

He'd tried to charm her room to all Slytherin colors, only to find that the musical spell she had placed on his room had returned (and was now singing loud than ever).

When he'd caught himself singing the insufferable song he'd tried to turn her pumpkin juice to fire, in hopes that it would set her ridiculously bushy hair aflame, but he'd only succeeded in burning Weasley for a second, which was_only_ amusing when Weasley thought he'd begun have hot flashes.

He'd tried to charm a library book to bite her, only to have Madam Pince catch him. And assign a not-so-amusing detention in which he had to dust every shelf in the library – without magic!

He'd resorted to tripping her only to find himself falling to the ground of the common room just about as fast as he'd rocketed towards the ceiling moments before.

He refused to admit defeat, though he came close in saying that Hermione Granger was just too damned aware of her surroundings.

* * *

"Have you given up yet?" Blaise Zabini asked him as he sat down for dinner in the Great Hall. 

"Malfoys don't give up." Draco responded automatically, his voice monotonous. He didn't even look up to address Blaise.

Blaise laughed, "Did Lucius beat that into you?"

Draco smirked, "I don't know what goes on in your house, Zabini, but _my_father doesn't beat _me_ ."

"Clever, Draco."

Draco brandished his fork, twirling it in the air, in acknowledgement of Zabini's comment.

"So I take it you haven't gotten even with Granger yet?" Blaise asked him.

Draco feigned clueless-ness, "As much as I'd like to hex Granger, Zabini, I have no reason to do it…except that she's a dirty Mudblood."

Blaise rolled his eyes, "Honestly, Draco. Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Yes." Draco replied, seemingly uninterested.

Blaise sighed, it was evident Draco wasn't willing to answer his questions. He rose from the table and exited the Great Hall in search of Miss Hermione Granger.

* * *

Hermione had given up on going to dinner; she still hadn't adjusted to the 'new' seating arrangement. Instead she opted for a walk along the grounds, in hopes of finding at least a little peace. 

She left her room after dinner had already commenced thinking this time to be ideal, for no one would see her.

She pushed her way through the entrance hall doors, and walked quickly away from Hogwarts. It was strange, Hermione thought, that she'd made her way towards the Quidditch pitch. Over the years she found that sitting in the Quidditch stands alone, while it could bequeath feelings of melancholy on one's conscious – seeing all those empty seats, being all alone – it could, at times, be comforting. For Hermione Granger it was a place to think, or to lose track of all thought.

Choosing the Quidditch pitch did have its shortcomings, of course. There was always the off-chance that someone would be there when she arrived, or show up after amidst her profound thought. That's why she chose to go during dinner; almost every student would be in the Great Hall, perhaps waiting to hear when the next Quidditch match would be. She knew from experience that the likelihood of Harry and Ron – or any of the Gryffindor team, for that matter – being at the pitch at this time was slim to none. Harry, on account of his fifth year suspension from Quidditch, had much time to think about improving his playing, and during his sixth year he had instilled a 'training program' that seemed to work rather well.

Hermione remembered Harry trying to explain the program to his Pureblooded teammates,_"Well, you see,"_ he'd said one night in the common room, _"if we keep track of our calorie intake and increase it by one hundred calories and watch our carbohydrate count we can be_better, stronger, faster She remembered how he'd laughed at his own joke, and then tried to explain the premise of the _Six Million Dollar Man_ and his reference to it.

After Hermione had stepped in to clear it all up, Harry was bombarded with questions about _cal-hoor-ees_ and _car-blo-hi-rates_, as Ron had called them.

Hermione, sitting in the Ravenclaw section of the Quidditch stands, caught herself laughing at this memory and immediately stopped herself.

She reverted to thinking, hoping, that she wouldn't run across any unsavory characters during this rather unstable moment. She told herself that no one would be down here, not while dinner was on.

And for the first time in a long while, Hermione Granger was wrong.

* * *

"Harry, I thought you didn't want to miss dinner. Your program works so well for you; Gryffindor wins now." 

He laughed, "I can't believe you're complaining that I came out here to spend time with you Ginevra Weasley."

She made a face, "Well, Ron saw us leave. I don't want him writing Mum or anything...she knows all she _needs_ to know about us. Oh Merlin, might he follow us?"

"He's just worried about you, Ginny. And I'm sure Ron can figure it all out without acting like Sherlock Holmes."

Ginny just gave him a look.

"Right, it's a Muggle thing." He smiled, "Don't worry, Ron's not dim enough to follow us out here. He'll draw the conclusions, I'm sure."

She gave him the same look she'd used moments before, "It's _Ron_."

"Good point. I suppose we'll have to be discreet, then." He grinned.

"You're Harry Potter, there is no such thing as discreet." She replied, simply.

"Another good point." And with those words he pulled her towards the Gryffindor changing rooms, kissing her all the while.

* * *

Hermione, sitting in the stands, had, for a moment, thought she'd been hearing things. Voices floated to her, they were faint and, at the moment, unrecognizable. 

She watched as a redheaded girl walked out onto the pitch, closely followed by a boy. They didn't stray very far towards the center of the pitch, and they didn't seem to notice her; it was almost dark, after all.

It was then that she realized who they were. Harry and Ginny.

_"Good point. I suppose we'll have to be discreet, then."_

Hermione almost choked on her tongue.

After a moment of speaking, they disappeared, Harry pulling Ginny towards the Gryffindor changing rooms.

* * *

Up towards the castle the large doors were swinging open and a curious seventh year boy spilled out. He was walking quickly towards the Quidditch pitch and when Hermione recognized him she smiled, truly and genuinely. 

Hermione watched as the boy entered the Quidditch pitch, and upon not seeing anyone, moved towards the changing rooms.

Within a few moments there was shouting, mostly the voice of an irritated Ginevra Weasley. The raised voices got louder as the three changing room occupants moved out towards the Quidditch pitch where Ginny proceeded to yell at her obviously enraged and still slightly embarrassed brother.

"Honestly, Ronald, you can be so bloody daft!"

"I'm daft? You two were the ones procreating in a public place." Hermione, while marveling at the fact that Ron properly used the word 'procreating', missed the next thirty seconds of the conversation. When she finally returned to reality she found Ron looking even more infuriated than before.

"I mean, you are supposed to be my friend, Harry. And then I find you taking advantage of my sister."

Ginny rolled her eyes, "Taking advantage, Ron? Oh, c'mon. You can't honestly be thick enough to think that this _hasn't_ been going on. Harry and I have been seeing each other for two years now."

"Well, I don't put much thought into my sister's nightly activities; it's just not something I'd like to do."

"It's common sense, Ron."

Hermione watched Harry, he was remarkably silent through the entire conversation but all that needed to be said was written all over his face. He was afraid. He was afraid of getting the hell beat out of him by the enraged seventeen year old brother of his girlfriend; he was afraid getting the hell beaten out of him by twins, and Bill and Charlie, maybe even Percy; he was afraid of Mr. Weasley; he was afraid of losing Ron; but in the end it all surmounted to the fact that he was afraid of losing the use of his reproductive organs.

Hermione had been so distracted by Harry that she'd missed the insults that Ginny and Ron had been hurling at each other.

Finally, as it looked like the argument was winding down Ron burst out, "You know, when Hermione said that you were, well…you know, I figured she was just saying it to be spiteful, I didn't think she meant it."

Hermione remembered the conversation he was talking about, _"Why don't you come back to me when you have a valid argument? Until then Harry can go back to screwing your sister and you can go back to screwing…well, no one, so you can go fuck your broom, alright? Now move the bloody hell out of my way before you become the next bouncing ferret."_

At this memory Hermione began hysterically laughing, that had, after all, been one of her crowning moments. But her laughing caused a ceasefire between the two angry redheads in the center of the pitch.

**

* * *

**

**Author's Note -** Perhaps some of you will understand why it took so long for me to update, others of you may not.

I had a bit of writer's block for this chapter. I know what I want the upcoming chapters to contain but getting there was the hard part. Now that I've got it all sorted out the story should hopefully move right along.

So, let me just apologize for the long update. But I hope it was worth it.

I would've taken longer if not for your wonderful reviews.

Thank you,  
Nicole


	11. Perception

It took a moment for Hermione to realize the mistake she'd made, apparently she was in hearing distance of the other three Gryffindors. All three of their heads turned towards her; she knew they couldn't see her, she was immersed in the shadow of the upper stands, but she had no doubt that they would be approaching rather quickly.

As Harry took a few steps toward her she seriously considered trying to outrun them, she wasn't really in the mood for a confrontation right now. But she was to get one anyway:

Ron spoke first, "You know, what is it with you, Hermione? You say you don't care about us and then you have the nerve to eavesdrop on our conversation?"

She stood up, making her way out onto the field as she spoke, "Honestly, Ronald, don't flatter yourself. After all that has happened and you still think my world revolves around you."

Ginny looked back and forth between the two, "Ron, c'mon, let's just go."

"No, Ginny! Why don't you and Harry just go back to what you were doing before I found you?"

Harry spoke for the first time, practically pleading, "Now, Ron, I don't think that's fair."

"Shut up, Harry."

Hermione shook her head, how the bloody hell would this boy be able to save the world, when he couldn't even stand up for what he believed in?

Both Harry and Ginny fell silent as Ron forged ahead, taking shots at Hermione.

"You know, Hermione, I'm glad that we're not friends anymore. That's right, I'm glad that you decided to be a bitch and go off with Blaise Zabini. Because the only thing you were ever good for was copying off of, and that's only because you were stupid enough to let us do it. And now we won't have to share the glory when we defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. And no one will know your name. And everyone will see you as the girl who was selfish and abandoned her friends when they needed her. So I'm really glad that you're not dragging us down anymore. I never thought we needed you, and I only agreed to be your friend because Harry felt bad about what we'd said to you back in first year, not because you're interesting or personable. And some days, Hermione, I really wish we'd left you in that bathroom with the troll that Quirrell let in, because that would've solved so many problems. So you know what, Hermione, i thank you /i for saving us the trouble and just walking away from us. So you can go back to your boring life of Muggle obscurity and never care about anything but books and learning something new. And you can sit home and study and never have any fun for the rest of your miserable life."

He took his time saying it, putting feeling into and emphasis on every word. Hermione knew he meant everything he said, and when he stopped to collect himself his eyes were blazing. He down at Ginny, who was tugging on his arm: she wanted to go; then he looked to Harry, who nodded.

And before he turned on his heel to leave the pitch, he said, quietly to her, "And _then_ you can die alone."

* * *

Hermione's anger dissolved into sadness.

So, it was final. They'd never be friends again. And while it was overwhelming, it was slightly liberating. But right now she didn't feel liberated, she felt deserted. But that was her fault. She'd shut them out. But they'd betrayed her. So it was their fault. But they'd apologized, and she hadn't accepted. So it was her fault.

For close to an hour she argued with herself, and somewhere along the way she'd started to cry. And somewhere after that she'd started to sob.

It was around this time that Blaise Zabini found her, arms around her legs, hugging her knees to her chest in the middle of the Slytherin stands.

He sat down next to her wordlessly, figuring that if he gave her enough time she'd tell him what was wrong without any prodding. It wasn't hard to figure out that there were only a few people who could've reduced her to tears at this point in her life: Draco or Potter's little group. And considering that Draco had been at dinner and then had disappeared to do something horrible to some first years Blaise knew who it had been.

"They don't care." She said after a quarter of an hour. "They don't care."

Blaise shifted in his seat, taking off his cloak, which he then proceeded to wrap around her. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and Blaise, needless to see was a bit taken aback. She trusted him? He spoke, "Who cares if they care, Hermione? I know you don't," he said, in an attempt to convince her of it, "you're way too strong-minded to care what those insufferable, unintelligent, misguided gits think of you."

She laughed through tears, though it was laced with melancholy, "I will never understand, Blaise Zabini, how you can say such malicious things while sounding so saccharine." She stood, returning his cloak, intent on making her way back to the common room.

"It _is_ true you know," he said, standing with her, "the only things they ever did for you were really just things they did for themselves. Think about it."

And when she thought about it her sadness translated to blind rage.

* * *

Blaise had beaten Hermione back to the common room by a good five minutes, as she'd stopped to reprimand some first year Hufflepuffs for trying to set the house banners in the Great Hall alight. Blaise, of course, in true Zabini fashion had laughed, walked right past it and suggested a new spell on his way up the stairs.

In the common room he'd artfully arranged The Unforgivables on the table beside the sofa in hopes that it might become – well, he supposed, a conversation piece – one for Hermione and himself.

He was shocked to find that when she entered the common room she said not one word to him about the incident in the Great Hall that he'd so dutifully shunned. Instead, it seemed that the reprimanding of the first years had only fueled her fire, she was angry, more so than Blaise had ever seen her.

"I mean, how dare they! Can you believe that? Treating me like I'm some kind of imbecilic child. How dare they!" She looked at him expectantly, but Blaise was unsure how to answer.

"Are we talking about the fickle first-ies or the other two-thirds of the not-so-Golden-Trio?"

She threw a curse at his head, narrowly missing. Blaise reminded himself to write his father and thank him for enrolling him in Quidditch at a young age, his dodging skills were unrivaled. "Tell you what, Hermione; let's play a new game, one that doesn't involve maiming Blaise, yes?"

She sighed, "Do I have any choice in the matter?"

"No."

"I thought not." She rolled her eyes, "Okay, proceed."

* * *

Within seconds of her consent Blaise had flipped open _The Unforgivables_ to what looked like a page he had pre-selected. Hermione rolled her eyes; somehow she should've expected Blaise to be a manipulative bastard. Somehow…

"Let's begin, shall we?" Hermione looked that the title of the section, _Putting It Into Practice_ , she groaned but shockingly took a seat on chair nearest Blaise.

Draco Malfoy was tired of Pansy Parkinson; she had become a stitch in his side these past few hours in the Slytherin common room and currently he wanted nothing to do with her. And he told her so. She'd been difficult about it, naturally, and it had annoyed him.

Now he was on his way up to the Heads dormitory, hoping to grab his broom and then hunt down Blaise Zabini, perhaps they could do something malicious and evil to a few first years. He gave the password, trying to remind himself of the stories his father had told him of his youth – maybe there was something worthwhile in there, some terrible prank he could play. Only slightly distracted by his scheming he pushed open the portrait…

* * *

Somewhere amidst their lesson Blaise had conjured up a jar of spiders, much to Hermione's dismay. He actually wanted her to _try_ using theCruciatus curse. He'd set the jar down on the table across the room and turned around to face her.

"Blaise, I've been thinking, maybe we should go back to playing games that maim you…"

He grinned, "Come now, Hermione, you can do this." He walked over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders, "You did _not_ put up with this rumor only to end up not studying what we utilized the rumor for." She nodded, setting a determined look on her face, but feeling incredibly small and confused inside her mind. As Blaise moved back across the room to stand next to the jar she reminded herself that this action would be frowned upon by Dumbledore and the rest of the Order, were they ever to find out. She reminded herself that McGonagall would be disappointed. And Lupin would be disappointed. And Dumbledore would be disappointed. And Fred and George. And the Weasleys. And Harry and Ron. _And Harry and Ron_.

That was enough, she damned them all to hell and raised her wand, intent on following through. She saw Blaise grin.

"_Crucio!_"

* * *

Draco Malfoy could not believe what he was seeing. It was absolutely and utterly ridiculous. Hermione Granger was standing in the middle of the common room – _his_ common room – with her wand in hand, facing Blaise Zabini, who looked to be walking away from her. He turned back around to face her and she raised her wand.

Draco'd be damned if he allowed this to happen – he feared the worst.

_Crucio_.

_"Stupefy!"_

Draco watched as the jar on the table next to Blaise shattered – Granger had missed. But Draco hadn't – he watched, in slow motion, it seemed, as Hermione Granger, Head Girl and Hogwarts' brightest witch, crumpled to the floor.

* * *

**Author's Note:**My sincerest apologies for the unbelievable delay. Though I hope this makes up for it somewhat. Now that all my testing is over for a brief period I'll try to work on another chapter for all of you. Thanks for the reviews, I definitely appreciate it.

Once again, between testing and my new RPG (Paris In Flames -link and summary in my profile; I hoep some of you will join) I've been oh-so-busy. Thanks for putting up with my bad updating. I love you all.

Thanks Again,  
Nicole


	12. Electric

**Chapter 12  
**_Electric_

Blaise Zabini looked to the door in confusion. One moment he'd been standing there, next to the jar, confident in Hermione's ability to hex the spiders, the next second he'd heard her voice, and that of Draco Malfoy, simultaneously shouting incantations. Blaise looked towards the latter, "Draco, what the bloody hell were you thinking?" he moved towards him, gesturing him quickly inside before slamming the portrait hole closed.

Draco Malfoy, looking particularly dumbfounded at his friend's lack of appreciation for the saving of his life, did not respond. "I'll ask again," Blaise started, "_what the fuck_? You just come rushing in here like it's the second coming of Grindewald and start throwing curses around?"

"She was going to..." Draco managed to stammer, torn quite effectively between anger and utter confusion.

It clicked then, for Blaise, "She wasn't trying to hex me, you twit." Draco looked to be at a loss, "The spiders, mate. _The spiders_." It took Draco a moment to realize his tragic error. He looked to Granger, still lying unmoving on the ground.

"Why would she do it in front of you? Use the Crutacious curse, I mean..."

Zabini looked at him in a way that implied his belief in Draco's incompetence, "Did you really think that goody-goody Granger would _Crucio_ anyone? Like, a person? She would never endanger her future as a Hogwarts student. And really, Malfoy did you even stop and consider the out-of-place jar of spiders? It is _your _common room, after all."

"Sorry, Zabini." Draco snapped back, "It wasn't like the other potential situations were particularly plausible, either. How the bloody hell was I supposed to know that you were fucking her _and_ teaching her. I knew you could ruin people, but you certainly corrupted her right quick."

Blaise lifted Hermione off the ground, carrying her towards her room, "I'm not corru- _teaching_ her anything. I'm just helping her vent her frustrations, alright?" He asked, irritated.

Draco followed him, "Oh bollocks, Zabini. You don't help anyone with anything unless you benefit directly. So, what? She's blackmailing you? Found out about that Firewhiskey cache, did she? What, she sleeping with you if you teach her the Dark Arts? Did you make a deal like that? Bloody hell, that's it. Isn't it?" Draco looked as if he'd struck gold, Zabini, however, looked as if he were about to use every poor word in his vocabulary to give Malfoy a piece of his mind. Blaise gave Draco a particularly icy look before trying the portrait to Hermione's room. It, naturally, refused to allow him entrance, despite Hermione's obviously fragile state.

"Fine, fine, you frigid bitch!" He yelled, quite unnecessarily, at the flustered woman in the portrait.

He whirled around and walked back towards the center of the common room, he spoke in a seething tone in the general direction of Draco, "We are not sleeping together." He heard Draco start, but cut him off quickly, "And she is not blackmailing me, Malfoy."

He spun, again, and Malfoy watched as Granger's hair swished with the motion. Blaise jerked his head in towards Draco's room.

Draco looked mildly surprised, and then appropriately disgusted, "No! I will not allow it. Absolutely not. You cannot put _her _in _there._ Are you bloody well insane? Could you imagine what people would say? A Mudblood," he said the word with as much disdain as he could muster, "in my room. Merlin, never."

"Oh, Malfoy, shut up, would you? I can't very well leave her out here, what if one of her friends comes knocking, how are you going to explain her Stupefied state?"

"I thought she wasn't friends with Potty and the Weasels anymore?" Draco looked baffled.

"She does have other acquaintances, you realize? Listen, Malfoy. If you find any Mudbloody essence in your room I will scour it myself, alright?"

"I suppose. But if I find that my room has no been returned to its previous state of pre-Mudblood cleanliness, so help you Mer-..."

Blaise just walked away.

* * *

He emerged a quarter of an hour later looking slightly less harassed. Draco was sitting in a chair glaring at the fire, an displeased expression on his face.

"The Mudblood nice any comfortable in my bed, I'm sure?"

"Oh, sod it. You're the one who Stupefied her." Blaise replied without so much as a glance in Draco's direction as he walked towards the door. He pushed open the portrait hole, intent on going back to his room but found it shut again of its own accord. He looked towards Malfoy, who'd drawn his wand, and had, evidently, something to say before he allowed Blaise to leave.

"We both know damn well that you've got an ulterior motive for helping the Mudblood with her torturing skills, seeing as you're _not sleeping with her_. And honestly, if you don't then you're bloody stupid and don't deserve to serve the Dark Lord."

Blaise was taken aback, his facial expression reflected his feelings that Malfoy's remarks were uncalled for. "Potter and Weasley have been less than accommodating these few weeks. She's angry. Far be it from me to take advantage of that, Prince Malfoy."

"This little spat with Potty isn't going to change anything in the world of the Golden Trio, or the Dark Lord."

Blaise's gaze remained fixed on the fire, "The Order of the Phoenix is responsible for the death of her parents. And Potter knew."

Malfoy didn't waver in the slightest, "The Dark Lord is responsible for the death of her parents. You know that as well as I do, Zabini."

He shook his head, "It was too easy, Draco. Your father told you, I'm sure of it. They just waltzed right in. No aurors. No defense spells of any kind."

"It doesn't change that Granger won't bow to the dark. Never. I don't care what Potter knew and what he didn't, Zabini. Granger will only use what you taught her against us. She will never trust us."

Blaise was quick to respond, "She will never trust_ them_." He walked towards the fire, "Not again."

"You're wrong." Draco looked up at him, "She doesn't have it."

"If we can get her. _If_ we can get her - which means not shutting her out, Malfoy - then we can utilize her." Blaise's eyes looked to be aflame, his posture reflecting a quiet confidence in what he was saying.

"The Dark Lord would never-" Draco began angrily.

"The Dark Lord," Blaise countered, "knows of her. _And_ what she can do. Don't be so quick to dismiss her because of her bloodline, he won't be."

Draco just glared, resentful of a fact that he knew could turn out to be quite true. Blaise made his way to the door, and Draco made no moves to stop him this time. Blaise turned to face him once more before departing, "She's a powerful weapon, and you know it."

* * *

Blaise Zabini returned to his common room quite unsure of what tomorrow would bring, surely Draco would not be pleased with his little speech, or the ideas presented within it. He had to admit however that the idea of Hermione Granger fighting against the people she had once risked her life for was a beautiful and poetic instance, one he hoped to witness in the future. It appeared, however, as though much of this task would fall to Draco's manners. Surely if he so desired Draco could terrorize Granger to the point of breaking, which would devastate any plans Blaise had hoped to set into motion. But, if Draco could realize the potential for one Hermione Granger in the ranks of the Dark Lord, then Blaise knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Malfoy would do whatever possible to make such a reality...and ensure that he received credit for it.

* * *

Draco sat in that chair in the common room for close to two hours before he even considered moving. The thought of Granger helping the Dark Lord would have seemed absurd more than a year ago, but the wizarding world was not nearly what it was a year ago. The Dark Lord had lost a great many in the recent battles with Dumbledore and the aurors.

The bottle of Firewhiskey he'd summoned an hour before was near empty and he took a swig before throwing it angrily at the fire. It shattered against the brick and seemed to leave a resolute calm in the air around him. He felt better, though the Firewhiskey in his veins might've had something to do with that. The whole situation seemed surreal, perhaps he had fallen asleep in front on the fire after drinking too much, and he'd imagined the whole scenario with Granger and Zabini. He hoped that was it. His hope, however, was shattered by a high-pitched scream from the direction of his room. Granger was awake.

"Oh, bloody hell."

* * *

At first Draco thought it would've taken him a fortnight to explain to her why she was lying in his bed, of all places. But after half an hour Granger had calmed down suitably, and he explained to her - from the other side of the room - that there had been a misunderstanding. And that he'd hexed her, thinking that she was trying to curse Zabini.

She responded weakly, "You dolt." Before dropping her head back to the pillow, evidently still unable to maintain her strength and usual vigor. Draco coughed pointedly, "If you wouldn't mind, Granger, I'd just love to have my room back."

She glared at him, before standing quickly and adjusting herself. Looking up, she remarked sarcastically, "Mudbloody sheets and all?"

Without a further glance, she tightened her robes around her and made her way out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

The air seemed to crackle around Draco as he watched her leave in such sudden anger, he brushed the ominous feeling aside before starting on the seemingly endless list of things that now needed cleaning, "Stupid mudblood bitch."

* * *

**A note from the dark side:** I must apologize sincerely for the lateness of this chapter. It appears as though my life has caught up with me, in the worst of ways. And, unfortunately, I am all out of the Elixir of Life, to allude to Potterverse. I struggled for a great deal of time with this chapter, and how to write it, but I hope, dear readers, if you are there, that it is to your satisfaction - and relatively errorless, seeing as my Microsoft Word crapped out on me between the last chapter and now.  
I do intend, I'll have you know, to respond to my reviews, and hopefully, post another chapter while my life resettles itself these next two weeks, just in time for the hectic holidays, perhaps I will find solice in writing, as I found that I thoroughly enjoyed writing this chapter far more than ever before - big changes create exceptional appreciation, I suppose. I also, however, much catch up on the writings of my fellows, who have, I noted, updated since I was last here. Lastly, thank you to anyone who's sticking with this through my irregular updates, and to anyone reading now. Thank you, thank you.

Happy Holidays,  
Nicole


	13. Self

Throughout the next fortnight, it appeared as though the status quo might've been broken in the Heads Dormitory. Draco, for the first six nights, following his discovery of the new Granger developments, had slept in the common area on a bed he had conjured - for the sofa appeared to be too poor for the like of a Malfoy's pompous arse. He maintained that he would not sleep in his room until Blaise has cleaned it thrice. The latter, it appeared, reveled in this inconvenience and did not appear in the Heads rooms for two days in their entirety following the Stunning incident - and certainly took his time in the days that followed to scourge Draco's green and silver adorned room.

Draco has not spoken to Hermione in that two weeks time - a blessing of Merlin, really - and had only once looked her in the eye, only to be met with a cold, empty stare.

After returning Draco's room to its rightful state of Mudblood-free-ness Blaise became a nauseatingly frequent fixture in Hermione's dormitory, stopping by nearly every evening with some kind of 'learning tool' and escorted Hermione to breakfast each morning. The two Slytherin boys appeared to be walking on eggshells around one another; Draco, quite obviously did not approve of Blaise's intentions and had threatened twice to mention it to Lucius.

November was now breaking, and Hermione had whole-heartedly thrust herself into her schoolwork for one last time. Blaise Zabini, while thoroughly delighted with the progress she had made in such a short period of time was now becoming frustrated, Hermione had refused at all lengths to use the Crutacious curse again, and would not even dream of attempting the other two Unforgivables. His progress hindered, Blaise had taken to sulking around this Slytherin dungeons when he was not spending time with the Head Girl - which had already left him incredibly exasperated. Certainly they'd worked on other spells that were commonly associated with the Dark Arts, but never again had Blaise managed to withdraw the kind of anger from the Muggle-born witch that he had the night Draco had Stunned her. He was fearful of losing his grip upon her. He had wanted to see her blossom into an all-powerful and unforgiving witch, much like Bellatrix - for then she would be heavily favored by the Dark Lord - and yet she seemed to have stalled irreparably and Blaise wanted nothing more than to blame Draco Malfoy.

_"She doesn't have it in her, Zabini. I've told you this hundreds of times in the last few days."_

_"You didn't see it. That spark. If she came unlaced I know, _I know _that we could change her."_

_"Oh, bollocks, Zabini. She's just your little pet project. You fancy her and her dirty blood. And you're trying to make her what she's not because you know your whole world disapproves of it. Bloody hell, step out of your first year self for a second mate and take a look at what you're doing. She's a Mudblood!"_

_"She's talented."_

_"Not talented enough." Draco spat._

_There was a second of silence before Draco continued on, "She will never be accepted."_

_"A new age is dawning." Blaise replied calmly._

_"A new age that I'm a part of. And I am opposed with every drop of my pure blood. This is not a matter of open mindedness. We follow the old world order."_

_"It's time for a new one, Draco. And you need to recognize that fact as the Dark Lord has. When the Order and the Ministry fall things will change. It is impossible to rid the world of Muggle-borns and Half-bloods, Draco."_

_"Says you."_

_"Says the Dark Lord."_

Hermione Granger had set in her heels after hearing this. She'd just departed her bedroom, opening the door quietly as she headed down to breakfast, assuming Malfoy to still be asleep. And yet he was not. Sitting in the common room were he and Blaise, arguing in whispers. She listened until Blaise departed, before opening her bedroom from the outside and shutting it loudly so as to appear as though she had just emerged. Malfoy appeared to be thinking along the same lines, as he feigned sleep - and subsequently an abrupt wake up - as she strode across the common room.

He shot her a glare, but received only an impassive look as she pushed the portrait open.

That had all occured this morning, after which she had chosen to sit alone at breakfast, a fact which made Blaise uneasy. "Having troubles with your Mudblood, Zabini?" Pansy Parkinson had quipped halfway through his pancakes.

He looked up, "Draco seems to be ignoring you these days, Parkinson. Forget to Confund him again?"

She scowled at him before returning to her incessant talking about something she'd seen in Witches Weekly.

The day did not improve for Blaise Zabini. Sitting in the Slytherin common room during his free period - Granger had not answered his knocking on her door - he received an owl which told of a dire situation at home. His father was in trouble for something relating to Muggles and would have to appear in front of the Wizengamot next week. The whole thought of it made him sick and by late afternoon he had taken to skipping his classes for a calming flight around the Quidditch pitch.

Draco's discovery of the circumstances had certainly thrown a glitch in his plans. And undoubtedly Granger was feeling self-conscious, practicing Dark Magic with the knowledge that Blaise could now, very well, reveal her progress to Malfoy. The Christmas holidays were barely a month away and should Blaise not be able to maintain his relationship with the volatile Head Girl he feared that he would very well lose her - after which Malfoy would openly discuss the incident with his father, who would in turn do so with the Dark Lord. And that would not fare well for Blaise at all.

Hermione did not know whether she was angry or upset. It was clear that Malfoy thought her incapable of whatever purpose Blaise had set her, though whether or not he was right remained another matter entirely. To continue onwards and to fail was no longer an option, but the attractiveness of success had become quite appealing in the weeks following the night she'd tried to _Crucio_ a jar of spiders. That night, however, had come to be the most crucial of her short life, it represented, in her eyes, two options, both of which had their complimentary attributes. To shun the Dark Arts meant to join in the fight against Voldemort, to side with the Ministry or the Order, whose policies she could not agree with. To side with the light meant to maintain her relationships, to continue to thrive in a world that accepted her and would provide everything she would need for her life in the wizarding world. The light meant unhindered success, the tutelage of Albus Dumbledore and to every day have to look into the eyes of one Harry Potter. This she could not do. Not today.

The dark meant just that. She would have to embrace the most unfamiliar world, one in which she would not be liked, filled with individuals would oppose her and every fiber of her being, while she sought the approval of the most feared wizard in history. With the Dark Arts she would demand respect from those that surrounded her, Pureblood or not. She could change the face of the Death Eaters - should she make it that far - accepting only the most astute wizards into their midst. With the dark she would have everything that she needed, but also anything she could ever want. It could mean outshining Harry Potter once and for all, proving herself to be the better witch, and she would no longer exist only as someone else's crutch. But it also meant realizing the great potential for failure, for death, for life imprisonment in Azkaban. It meant living and dying by the words of one man - until he lived and died by hers. Succumbing to her insatiable hunger for the dark meant starting now, for Hermione Granger had never failed.

Draco had been lounging on the common room couch for nearly two hours when the portrait finally opened. Hermione was laden with books and had an air of determination about her. She set them down on the table near Draco and whipped off her school robes.

"Is Blaise about?" She asked him in her first attempt at conversation in a great many days.

"How the bloody hell should I know? He's _your_ boyfriend." He replied, hands behind his head.

"Fair enough."

Draco sat up, looking slightly more awake. "I said that in jest, you know. The boyfriend thing, he told me - he said that..."

"Relax, you twit, he's not...we're not..."

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence during which Draco had begun producing streams of light from his wand that were not whizzing about the room. Hermione shot an annoyed look at the back of his head.

"So, I saw you in the hall with the Weasley girl yesterday," he started, "weren't too nice to her were you?" Hermione glared, and Draco continue, "I was just saying...Merlin, Granger, relax. You nearly made the bitch cry."

"Don't meddle where you don't belong, Malfoy. You should've learned from the last time."

"_Don't meddle where you don't belong, Malfoy_." he mocked, "That's comical coming from the little Mudblood who ask Zabini to teach her the Unforgivables. How's that going by the way? Know enough to avenge mum and dad?" He picked up one of the books, "You'll never learn a bloody thing from these, Granger. Some stupid book written by some inexperienced, Dumbledore-loving wanker who has never actually preformed the curses he's deemed so outrageous."

Draco laughed and stood, intending to go to his room.

"You don't know a damn thing about me, Malfoy. You have no idea how much hate I harbor for the people who betrayed me with a smile on. _No idea_."

"I know you don't have enough of it to make it where you intend to go. You'll always be goody-goody Granger, the girl who would be scandalized by even the thought of breaking wizarding law. So you'll pursue this entertaining bit for a few months before you go crawling back to Potty and explain that it was your grief that made you act that way. And that you miss your Muggle parents and how he should forgive you. And you two and Weasley can go back to trying to foil the Dark Lord and talking shit about me. And all will be right in the world and Granger will be safe and protected and never have to worry about another thing ever ag-"

His hateful rant was cut short by Hermione screaming _Crucio_ at the top of her lungs.

The spell missed Draco, but only by a few inches. After his initial shock, Malfoy turned to look Hermione in the eye and was met with the angriest look he'd ever seen - rivaled only by that of the Dark Lord himself. Her eyes blazed and her hands shook from the rage; she did not looked at all surprised at her actions.

"Well, well." Draco mused, smirking. "Congratulations, Granger."

Slowly her expression returned to that of its normal stasis, and then morphed into the mirror of his own. She calmly gathered her things, still smiling, and went to her room. The portrait shut behind her, and Draco felt the same air sensation he had the night he had Stunned her. The air was crackling. And then his mark was burning.

**Author's Note:** I apologize for the incredible delay. No excuses. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, though. Also, I've started a Meet the Author thread thing at HPFF. Visit my profile for a link to my HPFF profile. And click the thing. Enjoy.

Nicole


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